DISINTER

I cannot explain

exactly

why I continue

to haunt your steps

follow the echoes of whispers

you left so long ago.

I don't know why I travel so far

so often

to have nothing to do with you

when you're so far beyond caring

for whatever I do.

Is it ignorance?

Do I continue to think

against all evidence

that you could still come back?

That I could be happy

with such an ending?

Is it faith?

Some religious persistent conviction

of your existence

regardless of history, memory, antipathy?

I don't know any better than you

but I suspect

it's part of my stubborn strain

that I have invested much time

so much past

so much psyche

that I will not

cannot give up the ghost.

Dead as we may be

I cannot help but disinter us.

It is not an answer

not an explanation

just a hypothesis.

What do you think?

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